To start off this cavalcade of conversational chaos, here's part 3 of the July 5th 2037 "episode" of Hublanders, a heavily-derivatory science-fiction story universe i've been brewing over the course of many years. Hopefully you'll enjoy this part of the story, or at least take the time to read some of it. There's an e-cookie in it for the first to read it all through.
The air around Dolenheim Plaza had gotten quite cold, after the warmth of the preceding day had finally dissipated. No clouds cluttered the skies, and the far-off light of ancient stars littered the heavens like thermonuclear glitter on dark astral velvet. However, it was not these weak pinpricks of light, however numerous, that lit up the cold concrete sidewalk outside the apartment block. Neither was it the moon, for it was already new, and the lights of the colonies there were even less illuminating than the stars. It was the electrical-blue glow of a teleportal that lit up the night, causing the freshly-fallen dew on the parched grass to sparkle and shimmer like a carpet of diamonds. Damien and Chloe stepped through the teleportal from the Citadel of the Templars, finally agreed upon Chloe staying at his place. As the teleportal closed behind them, Damien breathed in the frosty air that now permated the night. It somehow felt chillier than it should've been: as if there was something else in it, something non-corporeal. He shrugged this off as an irrational feeling, and walked with Chloe into the building. After climbing up many flights of stairs, they finally came to Damien's apartment. Unlocking the front door, they stepped over the threshold, and the cold air dissipated, replaced with a warm glow eminating from several painted glyphs on the walls.
This was were Damien lived, his place of dwelling, his respite from public eyes. The living room was without doubt the largest in the apartment, with a large window facing outwards towards the east, offering a view of the city illuminated by the rising sun. This view greeted Damien every morning after walking into the living room, looking out across the plaza, his eyes scanning the horizon before focusing on the nearby Metro station. Apart from the living room, there was a kitchen to the north, with a counter opening out into the living room, as well as a bathroom to the east of it, and a bedroom at the far-end. "Sorry it's a bit cluttered-up here", Damien spoke. "I'm not used to sharing an apartment..." He picked up the parchments littering the futon, and placed them on his coffee table, before sitting down. "Sure is a lot of papers here...", Chloe commented as she sat next to him. "I take it these are all spells?" "Most, but not all...", he replied. "The product of late nights, ragequits, and fevered dreams... It's amazing what a wizard like me can do with what city life throws at him". She picked up one of the papers, and tried to make sense of the arcane markings and symbols scrawled on it. "Creo-Calor-Energia, Cobiheo-Intra-Materia...", she read aloud. "Associating words with aspects of reality is important in magic", Damien explained. "It helps you string together pre-assigned thoughts, which in turn create a sequence of quantum effects that result in the desired outcome. That's what magic is: coding effects into specific sequences to yield an outcome..."
He stopped, looking at Chloe's bemused expression, and decided to simplify his apparently-confusing explanation. "For example," he continued, "thinking about creating heat energy, then thinking about confining it within matter, basically causes heat energy to be created from the mana in the caster's body, then empowering a material object with that energy, to contain it within. By using that spell on a mixture of plaster powder and a mana potion, I created a magical glowing paste that produces the heat warming up this room". "Sounds interesting...", Chloe remarked, now understanding how it worked. "But why not use a radiator instead?" "Well, for starters, it helps save on heating bills...", Damien began. "Blimey, is that the time?" The clock above the TV blinked 3:00 am, quite a bit later than he was usually up. But then again, today wasn't exactly the same as all the others. "Well, i'd best sort out the futon, so you can get some sleep. You need it, after what happened tonight..." "...yeah...", she replied drowsily. "Sleep's probably the best thing I could get right now..." After pushing aside the coffee table, he unfolded the futon, propping up the pillows and laying out the duvet. Leaving his newfound apprentice to her well-earned rest, he himself retired to his quarters, plugging himself into his CJ34, and fell into his usual sleep, connecting to his account, and firing up Battlefield 2022.
This FPS was one of his favourite games on his account, although FPS's on internal-reality consoles had rather a bad repuatation in the eyes of some people, mostly veterans who fought in the wars, due to the "glamourization of the horrors of war" that the games allegedly portrayed. But despite the controversy surrounding such games, they were still highly entertaining, although BF2022 had some defining features that many FPS's didn't really have. The players gained experience as they fought, similar to RPG games, which they later spent on upgrading their capabilities. The setting was based on the Liberation War of the early 20's, where the Felan species had been ridding the planet of the Combine menace that had plagued and oppressed the Earth for so many years. It had been a turning point in the world's history, where the denezins of the world once again had hope for a brighter future. After spending some of his previously-earned experience on upgrading his Chain-Surge ability, he joined a server running 24/7 Manhattan Island, based on the Battle for Manhattan that occurred on the 3rd of May of the titular year.
However, something had gone rather strangely wrong. Usually when he played this game, his enemies were the Soldiers and Synths that the Combine deployed in an attempt to defend Manhattan Island. But instead, he and the other players were beset upon by a rather unexpected foe. Hordes of lumbering muscled cadavers, tinged a bloody-red colour, were swarming the players at their spawnpoints. The VOIP channel was cluttered with screams of "AAAAA WHAT THE SHITTING FUCK WHAT ARE THESE THINGS!" and "THESE AREN'T FREAKIN' COMBINES!", with the occassional "I sure didn't fight THESE things during the American Theatre..." spoken by JFisher, a Felan war veteran who actually played the game despite it's portrayal of the war. Something definitely wasn't right: these things never appeared in the game before, or even in the actual historical battle. Damien had a sneaking suspicion of an outside influence, and the Klansmen were his prime suspect. Who else would be able to manipulate servers in such a way that the NPC's would be replaced with minions of Chattur'gha? It sure wasn't a special event implemented by the devs: if it were, it would've appeared on the blog. After barely managing to capture a control point with the aid of a few other players, he heard a scream. But this scream didn't come from any of the players, or the enemies sent to grief them. This scream came from within his apartment...
Quickly disconnecting, he jumped out of bed, and rushed to the source. Trying to find out why the Klansmen were messing with the game would have to wait. Entering the living room, he found Chloe on the edge of the futon, tears streaming down her face. "Wha-what's wrong? What happened?", Damien asked anxiously. She turned to him, sobbing with noticable lament, and said "They've killed her!". He sat down next to her, still reeling from what she said. "They- Oh my god...", Damien spoke with dawning discovery. He listened closely as she blurted out how she only just now saw her mother being sacrificed, cast into a giant processing machine with other victims. He felt her pain and sorrow as she recalled of how they were crushed and blended into a slurry of flesh and blood, which seemed to be connected to a machine of some sort. His already high interest skyrocketed upon hearing from her that she saw something in the heart of the machine, looking straight at her. "...what was it? What did you see?", he asked with curiosity. Upon attempting to say what she saw, she found herself incapable of doing so from the nature of what she saw. "Chloe", Damien repeated, putting his hands on her shoulders. "I can help you with this. Just tell me what you saw". This contact seemed to give her strength and courage, knowing that there was someone trying to help. "I saw...", she began. "I saw Chattur'gha. He was as monstrous as you described him, but he didn't seem completely there. He had a head, and an upper body, but no claws". "Chattur'gha...", Damien uttered through gritted teeth. "You said he didn't seem 'complete'? Must be- ...so that's his plan..." Revelation dawned upon him once again.
"What do you mean?", Chloe asked with anxious terror. "What's it planning?". "The machine you saw is his 'incubator'...", Damien replied. "His body was destroyed by Ulyaoth, so now his spirit is seeking to return to life. By manipulating the Klansmen, he had them build a machine that processes living things into a form of biomass that is used to rebuild his physical form, so he can plunge the universe into 'eternal darkness', and consume all life. What's worse is, that if he exploits the breach, he'd have potential to plunge even MORE worlds into eternal darkness". He paused briefly, remembering that he'd already told her earlier, but then remembered the time that the Chattur'gha minions had started to appear in the game. It happened around 3:33 am. "3:33...", he mused. "They've got a sick sense of humour, i'll give them that." He suddenly sensed something, something in the air. The same thing he sensed in the air outside. The same strange energy that seemed to permeate the night with such intensity. Tracing his hand through the air, he uttered a few incantations, and waves seemed to appear in the exposed areas. "Y'see that?", he said, pointing at the waves. "Psionic waves, broadcasted through the spectral ether. They're broadcasting something that alters people's minds... Their dreams..." "They- they're doing WHAT?", Chloe replied with horror. "There's many theories behind dreams...", Damien continued. "Some see them as the meaningless tossing and turning of a brain into a restful sleep. Others see them as laden with symbols of our unconscious desires. To still others, dreams represent the upwelling of the archetypes, normally hidden deep within the recesses of the human collective unconscious. Personally, I believe them to be mostly the brain reflecting on the events of it's personal past".
He paused briefly to get up and get a few Mana Potions. After sitting back down again, he took a swig, handed an unopened one to Chloe, and continued. "Mostly... But dreams are not always as straightforward as that. As the conscious mind rests, the subconscious and unconscious are aroused, becoming more receptive to exterior influences, which is why listening to things whilst sleeping tends to have an effect on people. But it is not just the subconscious and unconscious listening to sounds that causes dreams... When consciousness sleeps, and the others are awake, they are also susceptable to psionic waves, which mostly originate from the constantly-broadcasting thoughts of ceaselessly conscious spirits in the Spectral Realm, where spirits exist after their material bodies are rendered incapable of sustaining their continued existence on this plane. Basically, it's the 'land of the dead'". He paused again to take another swig. "How's your mana?", he asked Chloe. "It's... strange", she replied. "It's sweet, but also a bit salty, and kinda makes me feel like i'm filled with energy..." "That's exactly what it does", Damien replied. "The energy suspended in the liquid permeates the body upon consumption, giving it the energy to perform magic. Anyway, as I was saying, dreams are sometimes influenced by the nearby resonations of spirit thoughts when they're in proximity to the sleeping brain. But what the Klansmen seem to be doing is using some kind of transmitter to project images of their actions in the Cathedral across the Spectral Realm with such high levels of power that it completely overrides the dreams of sleeping people, in order to spread terror amongst their enemies..."
"Against us Felans...", she replied. "But why? Why us? What did we ever do to them?" "There is no logic that can answer that question...", Damien explained. "...for no logic was used in their motives. Chattur'gha and his underlings have no use for logic or knowledge, their Might overwhelms the power of the Mind. But they are susceptable to another power, the power that we are to use against him when we have truly mastered it..." "Yes yes, of course, magic", Chloe concluded with frustration. "How could I forget? That's the cure-all weapon here, isn't it? Everything comes down to magic!" Damien sensed her frustration, and took steps to calm her. "Now now, there's no call for anger here...", he began. "Why?!", she countered, getting up off of the futon. "Because it isn't 'logical'? Logic is useless against them, and it weakens us against them! Why use logic when it's useless against them?" "Because Mind's logic both counters and controls Magic", he replied, now suspicious of outside influence. "And through that, we can use Mind indirectly to overcome Might..." "Oh, so now it's the other way as well?", she queried with annoyance in her words. "Mind can overcome Might as well if used through Magic? Well isn't that some fucked-up philosophy!?" Damien's suspicions had become justified now, she wasn't thinking logically at all. Her encounter with the Ancient in her dreams had weakened her sanity, and it seemed to dwindle still, whether by delayed reaction or broadcast exposure.
He knew of a spell that could cure her, but was unsure whether it would work without the Tome. He knew the names of the runes required, and their combined effects, but would that be enough? Was his own thoughts enough to create the desired effect, or would it fail miserably and potentially destroy her? Well, there was only one way he would find out... "I am sorry, Chloe", Damien apologised, as he wove the spell within his mind, just as he had thought it up many years prior during a night of fevered thoughts and sleep depravation. "Oh, you're SORRY, now?", Chloe snapped, her sanity fading fast. "Sorry for what, your pity for me?!" "No", he replied, his heart fluttering with anxiety and uncertainty. "This". Hand raised, he let the spell power up. Magickal runes appeared on the floor, arranged in a circle around him, glowing with a green light. One by one, they lit up around him, each echoing the voice of a now-deceased Ancient, the Ancient of the Mind, Xel'lotath. In a precise sequence, they sang in turn. "Antorbok!" "Pargon!" "Aretak!" "Xel'lotath!" "Pargon!" Their song complete, the spell activated. Tiny orbs of glowing green energy rose up from the runes, leaving trails of light in their wake. They swirled around his hand, ready to project at the target. "Let's just hope...", Damien thought silently. "...that this spell actually does repair Sanity". Bringing his hand down, he projected the spell towards Chloe, in the hopes that he did indeed cast a Recovery spell. The orbs flew towards her, dispersing their energies into her body. Her eyes briefly glowed green, and then returned to normal: the energies had done their work.
"Whoa...", she spoke at last, rubbing her head. "That was weird. I felt as if my mind was..." "You were suffering a sanity defecit", he replied. "Gazing upon Chattur'gha, and witnessing your mother's death, caused your mind to lose it's grip on reality, unable to cope with what happened. The feelings of loss and horror were simply too much to bear" "You- you mean...", Chloe began, still taking in what just happened to her. "You mean I went insane?" "For a time, yes", Damien confirmed. "But thankfully, I was capable of weaving the effects required to restore your Sanity, and give you back your lost logic". She now realised that Damien actually truly cared for her, and was willing to help her in any way he could. Could it be that he also had... feelings for her too? She decided to test whether he did. With a light smile on her face, she slyly moved closer to him. "You saved me from going mad...", she spoke, now with a playful tone in her voice, as she moved in closer. "You're quite the savior, aren't you Damien?" Damien's mind started to reel with conflict. What was she doing? Was she... "Y'know, i'm glad I met someone like you...", she continued, wrapping her arms around him. "Someone to teach me the ways of power. Someone to protect me from danger... Someone to share my life with?" Now his mind was really racing. "Oh god, is she FLIRTING with me?", his mind echoed. "Is she smitten? But she's- Oh sweet Sagan, she's a smitten kitten!" Anxiety and unease started to wriggle through his veins like tiny worms, tickling his veins as they crawled their way to his heart.
"Y'see, that spell you cast, the Sanity Recovery spell?", she continued, now blatantly teasing him, running her fingers through his hair. "It didn't just restore my sanity. It also increased my intelligence a little as a side effect, cleared up my way of thinking. And now I truly understand how it all works, I couldn't really grasp it earlier... And also, I think you've had other motives besides being 'good' concerning your actions..." "Uhhh...", he muttered, trying to resist the awkwardness he was now experiencing, the metaphorical worms of unease and anxiety now performing a Riverdance in his aortic valve. "Wha-wha-what'cha mean? *heh*". Chloe tilted her head slightly, and exhaled sharply. "Come on now, stop pretending you don't know", she spoke calmly. "Saving me from that beastly Klansman, asking me to be your 'apprentice', [b]inviting me to stay at your place?[/b] It's pretty obvious, I can see what you've been planning, it's perfectly clear!" She moved her mouth close to his ear, which heard the words Damien had been slightly dreading, but in a strange way, anticipating as well. "You've got the hots for me, haven't you?" He had indeed, but until now, it had been brewing in his subconscious, beneath his conscious train of thought. But now the new train followed the tracks that led beneath the sea of his subconscious, picking up the passenger-thought of his secret infatuation with the girl he saved, and was now racing like mad across the railways that criss-crossed the sandy shores of his conscious mind. "It-it wasn't in my current train of thought", he started. "But now it-".
Chloe laid a finger upon his lips, and grinned cheekily. "Well, now you boosted my mind, I think I do too..." Before he could come up with a suitable reaction, Damien found Chloe's lips firmly planted on his. For him, this was a totally new experience. He had never kissed a non-human person before. He felt the same rush of newfound joy that he had when he cast his first ever spell. Time seemed to slow down around him, as his mind made an effort to take in everything that happened during that first kiss with this girl of another race. It also seemed rather strange. This was the fastest he went from meeting someone to kissing them, about an hour and 45 minutes, judging by the clock. Usually these things would only happen in a romantic novel. But then again, magic was supposed to be something that only happened in fantasy fiction, but it existed here anyways. Maybe in his case, this love started faster than most? He decided not to think to deep about it, and further indulged in this new romance. His hands gently rubbed her back as their tongues gently brushed against one another, dancing a gentle waltz within the confines of their mouths. The kiss eventually ended, and they looked deep into each others eyes. Love now seemed as if it were an art form, their souls being the canvas, and their feelings for one another being the paint, creating a vivid symphony of colourful lines that flickered and shone in the night that surrounded them.
But it didn't seem like night anymore. Casting an eye across the horizon, Damien saw a faint glow form, a sign that the light of the sun was crawling across the city once again. Dawn was approaching, and they had barely slept at all, shaken by both the sly intervention of an evil space lobster hell-bent on consuming all life (Chattur'gha), and also their respective infatuation with each other. But now Damien realised that if the transmission continued, all the Felans in the city would probably go mad. "As wonderful as this turn of events is...", Damien finally declared. "There is something that we must do first, before we take any further steps along this road of love". Chloe put on a faux-dissapointed face. "Awww, what's the trouble?", she said as she cheekily patted his cheeks. Abruptly pulling away, the moment gone, Damien announced, "The transmitter, that's what's the trouble. If it continues broadcasting, a load of Felans are gonna lose their minds!". Chloe was taken aback, now taking seriously the situation that was plaguing her species in the city. "That's definitely some trouble, i'll give ya that...", she mused with concern. "But how can we stop it? We're on the other side of the city, aren't we? And the Cathedral isn't exactly a walk-in museum, regardless of your ambitions". "Astral projection knows very little boundaries, Chloe", he countered. "All I need is a constant supplement of mana, and a hand to hold". "Ok, I guess I could try to- Wait what?", she queried, now bemused again by his strange ways. "Well, the transmitter's attuned to Felan minds, right?", he countered again. "Well, if I establish a temporary link to your mind, I can discern the location of the transmitter, project my semi-corporeal spirit to the Cathedral's Inner Sanctum, and fuck up the electrics in the transmitter! Now 'ow's THAT for a slice o' fried gold?"
Chloe's face lit up with amazement. "You're really limitless, you know that?", she laughed with joyful awe. "No boundaries at all. Now I KNOW i'm in love with you..." But Damien wasn't playful anymore: the time for playing games had ended. Now was the time for him to buckle the fuck down and kick some ass. "Oi", he announced. "We can play these love games again later, but right now, we've got millions of minds to save!". He lay down on the futon, downing mana potions until his very breath seemed to glow with excess mana. "Alright", he instructed. "Keep feeding me these whilst i'm projecting: I need as much time as I can to fry the system boards and all that jazz. I'll try to sabotage the Incubator too while i'm at it". "Ok...", Chloe agreed. "You can count on me". Damien put his hand up to her head, tuning into the location of the transmitter. He locked on, and let go of his consciousness, his hand falling limp onto the futon. His heart still beated, his chest still rose and fell as he breathed, but his projection was now speeding away at supernatural speed, towards the Cathedral, and towards the salvation of millions of Felans.
And also, in time, towards the salvation of the universe.
To be concluded...
giner beat you
Oh my god 2 threads
That little bitch...
i'm sorry joe, i did state in the one before the last i'd make one without a version to piss people off
THEYRE EATING HER, AND THEYRE GOING TO EAT ME, OH MY GOOOOOOOODDDDDDDDDDDDDD
[img]http://content.ytmnd.com/content/9/4/b/94bf9b7bcc0c39957a3603b73339757f.jpg[/img]
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